


Whole

by Wolf_of_Winterfell



Series: Cake [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Birth, Childbirth, F/M, Hope, Labour, New Beginnings, son - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-16
Updated: 2016-02-16
Packaged: 2018-05-21 01:34:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6033249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wolf_of_Winterfell/pseuds/Wolf_of_Winterfell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a short conclusion to 'A Piece of Cake" or could be read as a standalone chapter. </p>
<p>Sandor deals with his feelings as Sansa goes into labour.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Whole

Sandor awoke in the night to Sansa pacing the floor beside their bed.

This was nothing new, between the heartburn that had plagued her over the last few months and cramp in her legs that awoke her from even the deepest slumber. But he felt somehow that this time was different.

"Little bird?" She turned around to face him as he spoke, his eyes rested proudly on her very pregnant belly and swollen breasts, pregnancy looked good on her.

"Did I wake you?" She was concerned about him, as always.

"Is it heartburn again? Let me get you...." He started.

"No. It's time. I've been having contractions for hours, they are a few minutes apart". She spoke softly, no trace of panic in her voice. Panic rose in Sandor's chest, it was a strange feeling for him.

Sandor shot out of his bed and bashed directly into the wardrobe opposite, "fuck!" He hopped slightly,  cursing his stubbed toe. "You should have woken me up!"

"Woah, calm down. I need you whole. There was no need for us both to be pacing". Sansa was concerned about him, unused to seeing him panic. "Call the midwife and get her out here, I need to get in the pool".

Sandor's hands felt alien as he picked up his phone, it felt like the phone was resting in someone else's hand. His big finger clumsily pressed the speed dial button.

He listened to the midwife's instructions and helped Sansa down to the kitchen. She stopped a few times, leaning against him for support as she doubled over in pain, strong contractions wracked her body from the inside. The large table and chairs had been cast aside and a large birthing pool stood in their stead. He sat her on a chair while he filled the birthing pool with warm water. By the time it was ready, the midwife was knocking on the door.

"Right! Sansa, it's time?" The midwife checked. "My assistant will be here shortly. Sandor, we need to help Sansa get into the pool very carefully."

Sansa shrugged off her dressing gown and wore only a bikini top underneath. She stepped gingerly, trying to balance while stepping over the tall wall of the birthing pool, gripping on to Sandor's hand and one of the midwife's hand. Her pregnant state hampered the range of movement of her long legs. Sandor watched her make a couple of attempts before intervening, lifting her gently up and over, placing her sitting in the pool. The sigh from her lips as the water provided instant relief was music to his ears. 

Sandor bustled around, grabbing towels and drinks for Sansa as the midwife performed the necessary checks, for once he was glad of being told what to do. He was upstairs when he heard Sansa scream slightly.

His feet sped down the corridor and for a brief moment, he considering vaulting over the bannister in order to get to her quicker. He decided against it and crashed quickly down the stairs. "Sansa!" He skidded to her side. 

Pain lined every feature of her face and her eyes were squeezed shut, she panted slightly and showed no sign of having heard him at all. He looked to the midwife, "it's almost time, she's progressing really quickly". The midwife didn't look worried as she spoke, this made him feel better.

A knock on the door forced him away from her, he opened the door absent mindedly and returned to her side. The midwife looked up briefly. "Just in time, this is my assistant, Sansa is almost ready to start pushing". Sandor didn't bother looking at the assistant as she moved to the midwife's side.

Sansa continued focusing on her breathing but one of her hands gripped his in a vice like hold.

Watching her in intense pain made Sandor feel a lot of things that he wasn't prepared for. In the Lannister house, he could beat guards bloody and kill them to spare her suffering, in this situation he was worse than useless. This was a struggle that only Sansa could overcome, he was relegated to being a mere cheerleader. He wanted to take the pain away from her.

A long moan eminated from her lips, her pain was almost tangible. Sandor winced. The midwife checked her again. "10cm. Sansa, it's time to push! You're contraction is coming. On the count of three. One. Two. Three. Push, Sansa!" 

Her grip on his hand intensified as she bore down, pushing as hard as she could. Her normally pale complexion quickly turned red with the effort.

"Good, Sansa! Rest between contractions, when you feel the next one coming then push!" Sandor counted a mere 30 seconds until the next one. Pain once more flooded her features as she pushed with everything she had. "Push harder Sansa! We need a bit more, I can see baby's head but it's not moving out". She rested once more.

"I can't do it!" Sansa sobbed, her features twisting with pain and despair. "I can't!" She thrashed slightly from side to side, fuelled by emotion and agony. 

Quick as a flash, Sandor stripped to his boxer shorts and moved her gently, sitting behind her in the pool, ignoring the gaping faces of the women in front of him. Her back rested against his broad chest.

He murmured slowly into her ear. "You can do it, Sansa. Push as hard as you can, our baby has been waiting 9 months to meet you". Her hand still gripped his and another held him around his thigh.

"Sansa, another contraction is starting, push!" The midwife spurred her on.

Renewed strength seemed to eminate from Sansa as she pushed as hard as she could.

"Good! Stop pushing now, pant out through your mouth.....The head is out! Baby has a good head of dark hair".

Sansa did as she was instructed, puffing through her mouth. Sandor could only grin that the baby had got his dark hair. 

"Shoulders are next, Sansa. Push as hard as you can on the next contraction."

Sansa shouted as she pushed. "Good! Good. Baby should be out completely on the next push. Come on Sansa! Give it everything you've got!"

Sandor winced as her nails found the meat of his thighs. She shouted loud through gritted teeth, a war cry uttered by birthing mothers. Sandor was aware of the pool water turning red and he looked alarmed.

"Baby is out! Congratulations! You both have a son". The midwife plucked the baby from the water and wrapped him in a towel, checking his airway and rubbing him with the towel. Sandor used the scissors to cut the cord but he couldn't take his eyes off the little person in front of him, who was squalling heartily. Sansa was slumped against his chest, exhausted.

She looked up at him. "We did it!" She grinned.

"No, you did it. I have the best wife ever". He kissed her gently.

"Well, you had some involvement...". She started to argue.

"I gave you a crazy tryst on the stairs on our first night here. You gave me a son. I think you'll find it was mainly you". He grinned.

"How did you know the labouring mothers folk song of the Riverlands? I heard you humming it in my ear? Thanks for stroking my hair, I needed that".

Sandor looked at her, confused. "I don't know the birthing song from your mother's home, Little Bird. My hands were supporting you, not on your hair".

"I heard it! I could feel your breath against my ear and your hand on my scalp."

They both gaped at each other momentarily as realisatiom dawned before the midwife presented them with a warm wriggly bundle. "He's here and he's perfect".

Sansa held their son in her arms, supported by her husband's chest. They looked at him in wonder. He made small snuffly noises and opened his eyes. Catelyn Stark's blue eyes peered up at them. Sansa sobbed. "He has my eyes and your hair!"

They sat staring at the tiny person in Sansa's arms for a few minutes while the midwife busied herself. "Right Daddy. Can you take your son while I attend to your wife please? Dry yourself off and get dressed and I'll hand him to you. My assistant will clean the pool up".

Sandor extracted himself carefully from the pool and dried himself roughly before throwing his clothes on and sitting down on a chair. The midwife gently took the baby from Sansa and handed him to Sandor. 

His big blue eyes gazed around lazily, his tiny eyelids fluttered open and shut as he blinked, unseeing. Sandor stared fascinated at the brand new person in his arms, the only person on the planet who was related to him by blood, he felt an intense rush of love. The past fell away rapidly from his mind as he realised that the baby in his arms represented their future, a blank slate of possibility for the three of them. Their son's tiny blue eyes seemed to rest on his, Sandor knew he was lost in them.

Several expressions flittered across Sandor's face as he took in every line and every hair on the baby's face. He recognised the shape of his tiny mouth as being the same as his own. He smiled, awestruck. Tears ran unashamedly down his face as he held the child he never thought he'd have, whose mother was the woman whose love was once completely lost to him.

As he looked up to see if the midwife was finished with his wife, he realised they were both staring at him, watching the silent interaction between the powerful scarred warrior and the brand new tiny life he held in his strong arms. His attention returned to their baby.

"For such a large muscley man, he has such a gentle way with babies". The midwife whispered to Sansa, careful not to spoil the moment.

Sansa beamed at the sight of her husband and son. "He certainly does."


End file.
